


Part of Me

by hongbab



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9774095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongbab/pseuds/hongbab
Summary: Taekwoon remembers the first time he met Wonshik as if it had only been yesterday, whereas, in fact, it happened almost 17 years ago.





	1. I

Taekwoon remembers the first time he met Wonshik as if it had only been yesterday, whereas, in fact, it happened almost 17 years ago.

 

It was a nice, sunny afternoon in May, and Taekwoon was clutching his mother’s hand hard while they were walking in the streets full of people fixing their clothes–the weather was too hot for sweaters, but too cold for T-shirts. Drops of sweat were forming under Taekwoon’s black fringe as well, but his mother had been way too charmed by her son looking ‘like a handsome little heartthrob’ in his new jacket (whatever she meant by that), and Taekwoon had liked the smile on her face very much, so he didn’t say anything.

 

He finally got rid of the jacket in the house they arrived at, while a woman was crouching down in front of him, smiling at him and telling him how much he had grown since she had last seen him. Taekwoon was blinking fast, looking right and looking left but never meeting the woman’s eyes; he was flattered by the words, but he didn’t know who she was, until his mother told him she was a good friend of hers.

 

Taekwoon felt a little relieved when he was told to take a seat (and actually did so when his mother told him that it was okay to accept the offer), and got a glass of very yummy juice and a plate of delicious cookies. He started swinging his legs, nibbling on a cookie, not quite listening to the adults’ conversation until he heard soft sobs coming from behind one of the closed doors. He pricked his ears up, his heart rate becoming faster upon hearing the painful-sounding, high-pitched noises, but the two women stood up from the table beaming at each other as they entered the room.

 

Taekwoon put down the cookie, hopping off the chair and padding towards the room, hiding behind his mother’s leg when he finally stepped in. There was a small bed in the room with some birds and flowers hanging above it, and a lot of furniture Taekwoon didn’t know what they were good for. He glanced up at the women, just in the right moment to see his mother taking a baby from her friend, rocking him in her arms and cooing at him like she had done so many times to Taekwoon himself. The baby was crying quietly, his sobs subsiding with each movement of Taekwoon’s mother’s arms, and she asked “Did you have a nightmare, Shikie?” Taekwoon thought it was silly; the baby looked very young, there was no way he could have answered, but apparently he didn’t even need to: his mother put him back into the tiny bed, and the baby only emitted some feeble sounds afterwards.

 

Taekwoon’s mother ran her fingers through her son’s hair absentmindedly while she left the room with the other woman, but Taekwoon stayed where he had been standing. He watched the baby reaching out for the birds and flowers above his head, giggling with only a few teeth showing.

 

Taekwoon was rooted to the spot. He didn’t quite know what was so enchanting in the baby’s presence, but he couldn’t stop watching him, so he sat down on the floor, next to the crib, cross-legged, and whispered, so that the women in the living room couldn’t hear, “My name is Taekwoon. Nice to meet you.”

 

The baby paid no attention to him, instead, he yawned, dropping his little arms next to his body, kicking into the air with one of his legs.

 

“Are you sleepy?” Taekwoon asked quietly. The baby babbled something. “Mummy always sings to me before I go to sleep.”

 

Taekwoon took a deep breath, and started singing in his soft voice, eventually silencing the baby with the lullaby, and helping him fall asleep.

 

He only stopped singing when his mother caressed his face, telling him that it was time to go home, and Taekwoon held his mother’s hand, waving at the baby and promising him that he would come back.

 

But the baby didn’t notice him leaving.

 


	2. II

By the time Wonshik got into kindergarten, the two had grown practically inseparable.

 

Wonshik liked to behave like he was the older one between them, and in a lot of cases, it indeed seemed like he was a lot more experienced than Taekwoon.

 

It happened so in an afternoon Taekwoon and Wonshik spent at Wonshik’s house, biking. Wonshik had got a new bike from his visiting grandmother some days before, and now he was riding it with a wide grin on his lips and his eyes glinting happily.

 

“Woonie, do you want to see what I learnt?” Wonshik asked, pushing the pedals backwards, slowing down next to Taekwoon.

 

Taekwoon looked up from the chocolate bar he was munching on, standing on the pavement with his left leg supporting him and his bicycle he was half-sitting on, and nodded.

 

Wonshik chuckled and turned around, moving away from Taekwoon, speeding up. He was going too fast for Taekwoon’s liking, but he was already out of earshot for normal volume, so Taekwoon didn’t say anything. A moment later, Wonshik slowly let go of the handlebar with both hands, his arms lingering in the air, and he was laughing so loudly Taekwoon could hear it clearly.

 

It didn’t last long, only until the front wheel of Wonshik’s bike encountered a stone, making it turn away from its track, and causing Wonshik to fall off with a loud scream.

 

Taekwoon was horrified. He dropped the chocolate and jumped up on his own bike, hurrying to Wonshik as fast as he could, finding his friend still lying on the pavement, crying and holding his left knee to his chest. Taekwoon shoved his bike to the side, crouching down next to Wonshik, and looked at his face to see if there was any injury on his head–something his mother did every single time Taekwoon fell off his bike. His head was all right, though, the helmet still intact, but his trousers were torn above his knee, the skin bloody and dirty, and Taekwoon suddenly felt like passing out, but he stayed strong.

 

He stood up and ran towards the house, bursting in and telling Mrs Kim to come out _right now_ , going back to Wonshik immediately to provide him emotional support by holding his hand.

 

Some minutes later, they were back in the house, Wonshik sitting on a chair while his mother cleaned his wound (a long scratch), Taekwoon standing by them, watching the scene. When Mrs Kim was done, she looked at Taekwoon with what seemed to be surprise in her eyes, and then smiled, hugging him and telling him “Don’t cry, Taekwoonie, he will be all right!”, making Taekwoon realize that silent tears were streaming down his face.

 

It only took Wonshik’s injury a few days to heal enough so that he could show it off, telling his classmates in kindergarten that he had been bitten by a wolf. Taekwoon didn’t say anything; didn’t want the smirk on Wonshik’s face to turn into a frown, so he went along with the story, nodding when Wonshik asked “Right, Woonie?”, confirming the tale.

 

As a favourable consequence, a girl in Wonshik’s class let a suddenly popular Wonshik play with her, and Wonshik did so with much delight. Taekwoon retreated into a corner, resting his chin in his palm, not paying too much attention to the puzzle he was playing with, watching Wonshik and his newfound girlfriend act like a married couple until their break was over and they all returned to their respective classrooms.

 

It went on like that for a week.

 

Wonshik didn’t even talk to Taekwoon in kindergarten anymore, let alone doing anything else with him, instead, he stayed with the long haired girl, whom Taekwoon–much to his own surprise–had grown to strongly dislike. He took revenge; hid the girl’s favourite doll in the bush behind the swings, pulled her hair whenever he passed by and ran away right after, and once he even smeared wet sand on her frilly dress, lying that it was an accident when asked about it.

 

He grew tired of being mean to her quite soon. One day, however, while he was sitting in the grass, playing with his toy car without much enthusiasm, he noticed a small hand and another car nearing his own. He looked up, noticing Wonshik next to him, the younger racing his car against Taekwoon’s, and when Taekwoon stopped, Wonshik only smiled at him and continued like those seven days of loneliness had never even happened in Taekwoon’s life.

 


	3. III

On a particularly cold winter afternoon in middle school, they were lying on Taekwoon’s bed, staring up at the ceiling with Taekwoon’s iPod between them, one side of the earphones in Taekwoon’s ear and the other in Wonshik’s.

 

A slow ballad was playing, one that Taekwoon loved very much, and he closed his eyes when his favourite part came.

 

Wonshik was stirring next to him out of boredom, making Taekwoon knit his eyebrows in frustration when his bony elbow hit Taekwoon’s. The song was over and it changed into another ballad, but Wonshik asked: “Can I show you my favourite song, hyung?”

 

Taekwoon let out a tiny sigh, telling him yes, so Wonshik dug his own music player out of his school bag, replacing Taekwoon’s earphones with his own in both of their ears, pressing the play button.

 

The underground hiphop song that started lacked rhythm and melody altogether. It was a pain to listen to, so Taekwoon didn’t do so–he listened to Wonshik rap along to the song instead, smirking a little when his best friend’s voice cracked (which it did a lot around that time).

 

“Do you think I could be a rapper?” Wonshik asked when the song was over and they were listening to another; an older one they had listened to numerous times before.

 

“Maybe,” Taekwoon said, turning his head towards Wonshik with a grin, “after your voice stopped changing.”

 

“Shut up,” Wonshik tried to grumble but it came out weird and Taekwoon started laughing. “I don’t even think yours has changed since you were, like, five.”

 

Taekwoon shrugged, and stared up at the ceiling again.

 

“But I’ve always loved hearing you sing,” Wonshik said quietly.

 

Taekwoon felt his heart beating erratically in his chest, and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He loved singing and he liked being complimented for it, but what made Wonshik’s confession a lot more valuable than any other person’s was Wonshik’s genuine tone and the nudge of his leg as he kicked Taekwoon in the ankle, trying to clear the awkward atmosphere he had created.

 


	4. IV

 

Wonshik was 16 and Taekwoon was 19 when they first got drunk.

 

It was New Year’s Eve, and Taekwoon was lying in his bed, switching from one channel to the other on TV. He was alone in the house; his parents had gone over to Wonshik’s, and Wonshik was at a party he had tried to convince Taekwoon about attending. He had promised Taekwoon he would spend the night with him, but he just had to show up a little, “you know, it’s a question of prestige”.

 

It was at half past 11 that Taekwoon heard the loud knocking on the front door. He unlocked it, letting in a very woozy Wonshik who grinned at him with a bottle in one of his hands, kicked his shoes off, and hurried into Taekwoon’s bedroom, snuggling into the bed sheets. Taekwoon followed him and sat down at the edge of his bed.

 

“Drink,” Wonshik slurred, reaching out the bottle to Taekwoon.

 

Taekwoon took it and eyed it suspiciously, reading the word ‘vodka’ at least five times. He checked the alcohol by volume percentage (40%) as if he knew what he would have to expect, and he thought about the few cans of beer he had consumed in his 19 years of life. He didn’t like them; their taste was bad, he certainly could have got used to it if he wanted, but somehow it never occurred to him that the taste of beer would be something people would _want_ to get used to.

 

“I’ll tell you something funny if you drink it up to this point,” Wonshik said, pointing at the bottle, a few inches under the liquid’s surface.

 

“I’m not going to drink that much.”

 

“Whatever, just drink a little.”

 

Taekwoon took a deep breath and unscrewed the cap, smelling the drink first. It smelled awful; like his mother’s nail polish removers, and he felt his stomach do weird things, but before he could have thought it twice, he took a sip.

 

It burnt his throat and wanted to come out the way it went in, but Wonshik was laughing at him, so Taekwoon kept it down.

 

“It’ll get better after a few sips,” Wonshik said.

 

“I don’t want to drink this.”

 

“You’ll miss out on so much.”

 

Taekwoon looked down at the bottle again, trying not to inhale the wicked vapour before drinking some more. His eyes were teary and it felt like his entire gullet was going to turn into ashes, but he kept drinking until he felt hot and bold–like he could have done anything in the world.

 

He didn’t have big ambitions at that moment, though; he put the bottle on the nightstand and lay down next to Wonshik, blinking with half-lidded eyes as he tried to focus.

 

“So what do you want to tell me?” he asked, tongue clumsy and heavy in his mouth.

 

“I lost my virginity.”

 

It took Taekwoon some moments to digest the information, but when he finally did, he blurted out: “What? But you… don’t have a girlfriend.”

 

Wonshik laughed; his voice was deep and husky, and for a strange reason, instead of feeling embarrassed for being laughed at, Taekwoon felt good: Wonshik’s laughter meant he was happy and that was all that mattered to Taekwoon.

 

“You can have sex with people even if you don’t engage in a relationship with them, you know?” Wonshik smirked at Taekwoon. “Or am I just breaking it to you? Is that why you’re still a virgin at this age?”

 

Taekwoon grunted in reply, turning away from Wonshik, but a second later he felt a leg draping over his own, and a warm body pressed up against his back, hot breath tickling his ear.

 

“I don’t mind that it didn’t happen with someone I loved, though,” Wonshik murmured and Taekwoon would have liked to roll his eyes, but they were closed. “I mean, it happened pretty fast, and I was probably horrible, and she was older too, so it must’ve been bad.”

 

“I don’t care about the details,” Taekwoon grumbled.

 

Wonshik lifted his head and rested it on Taekwoon’s shoulder, a hand coming up to Taekwoon’s arm, and caressing it almost comfortingly, like a parent would caress their child.

 

“It’s actually very cute that you can only imagine losing your virginity to someone you love,” Wonshik said, and Taekwoon could _hear_ him grinning. “I might have drunk too much, but you know what? If I were a virgin, I’d like to lose my virginity to you. And, well, if you were a girl. Or something.”

 

Wonshik lay back on the pillow, his hand sliding off Taekwoon’s arm, but his leg stayed on Taekwoon’s. Taekwoon opened his eyes, the room rotating around him, and he silently panicked over the lingering feeling in his chest that Wonshik’s words caused, and the fact that he was imagining his best friend standing in front of him naked while in reality, he was already snoring loudly behind his back.

 

Taekwoon fell asleep a few minutes later, the alcohol having proved much more powerful than the disturbing thoughts that would have kept him awake.

 


	5. V

It was during that summer that Taekwoon broke the news to Wonshik that he would go to college 400 miles from their hometown.

 

He had known he would want to attend that specific college since February that year, but he had never told Wonshik until the middle of August, a week before he was about to move his stuff there.

 

They were out on the playground, Wonshik sitting on one of the swings that was really only a wooden board suspended from a metallic frame by two chains, leaning back until the board was still in balance, looking at the scenery upside down. Taekwoon was sitting in the sand at the bottom of the jungle gym, tearing a blade of grass into pieces while Wonshik’s horrible underground hiphop music was blasting from his phone.

 

“Wonshik-ah,” Taekwoon called after the long silence in their conversation that should not have been awkward, and it probably hadn’t been to Wonshik, but as Taekwoon was building up his speech, it had eventually become unbearable to him.

 

“Hm?”

 

Wonshik sat up in the swing, closing his eyes for a moment, probably to clear his head after too much blood had flowed into it. He stood up and sat down next to Taekwoon.

 

“I’m going away,” Taekwoon said, eyeing the last piece of the grass blade between his fingers.

 

“Home?” Wonshik asked in a tone that suggested he only hoped ‘home’ was what Taekwoon referred to. Taekwoon felt upset by the doubtful undertone of Wonshik’s question, but he tried not to show it.

 

“No,” Taekwoon replied, twirling the grass around. “I’m going away in September. For college.”

 

“But…” Wonshik searched Taekwoon’s eyes, only finding that Taekwoon had no intention of looking up at him. “You said you wouldn’t go to college yet. You said you’d stay and look for a job and–“

 

“I lied.”

 

“I noticed,” Wonshik scoffed, throwing away a tiny pebble. “Why did you? Why was it good for you to keep it a secret for fucking months?”

 

Taekwoon didn’t reply. He tucked the grass blade away, sprinkling sand on it, hiding it under the grains. He thought it would be safe there–no one would disturb and tear it into pieces ever again, and it could stay there peacefully; broken but protected by the sand.

 

Wonshik let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

 

“So where are you going?” he asked. “Is it far away?”

 

Taekwoon nodded.

 

“I’ll come back, though,” he said quietly.

 

“When?”

 

“Once every month. Probably.”

 

“Probably,” Wonshik echoed with a small, sarcastic laugh.

 

Taekwoon finally looked up. Wonshik’s eyes were glassy as he watched the sunset behind the buildings, but his face reflected pain, and Taekwoon felt like invisible hands were grabbing his throat, trying to asphyxiate him, making it difficult to breathe.

 

“Are you angry?” Taekwoon asked, almost choking on the words.

 

“Angry? No.” Wonshik turned his head towards his best friend, a sad, fake smile playing on his lips. “I’m disappointed. Not in you–in myself, because I thought I knew you enough to think that you wouldn’t hide things from me.”

 

Taekwoon didn’t know what to say. There were half-formed thoughts floating around in his mind: he wanted Wonshik to know that he hadn’t wanted to leave him; that it had all been for Wonshik’s sake, because Taekwoon had known he would react like this, thinking Taekwoon didn’t care about him enough not to leave him–but they all sounded like selfish excuses, so he stayed quiet. Besides, there was another thing, the real reason why Taekwoon had decided that he would go somewhere far away, but he didn’t even dare think it through, let alone telling Wonshik.

 

It would go away, it would disappear, and everything would go back to normal if Taekwoon got some fresh air somewhere Wonshik wasn’t around.

 

At least, that was what Taekwoon thought, and that was why he didn’t reach up to grab Wonshik’s wrist to hold him back when Wonshik bade him goodbye for a longer time than either of them thought.

 


	6. VI

Taekwoon didn’t return for almost a year.

This is why right now he’s standing on the Kim family’s porch, reminiscing, locking and unlocking his phone, carefully considering whether 6 pm on a July afternoon is an appropriate time for visiting anybody.

He soon decides it is, mostly because he has been putting off this particular visit for days, and because standing on someone’s porch for more than 10 minutes might look weird to others.

He rings the doorbell, and a few seconds later a familiar, kind expression greets him on Mrs Kim’s face as she opens the door for him.

“Taekwoon-ah!” she exclaims and ushers Taekwoon inside, making him sit down at the dining table as soon as he kicks his shoes off. “We haven’t seen you for ages! How have you been? Would you like to drink something? Coffee? Tea?”

“I–uh, no, thank you,” Taekwoon stutters, feeling heat building up in his cheeks. “Is Wonshik home?”

Mrs Kim glances at the clock on the wall.

“He said he would be home by now, so I think he’ll–“

Mrs Kim gets cut off by the opening and closing of the front door, and deep-voiced laughs coming from the hallway. Taekwoon feels a lump growing in his throat as he stands up, just to do something.

The sound of feet shuffling can be heard, and a moment later, three boys appear in the kitchen, greeting Mrs Kim and Taekwoon–all but one: a tall boy with platinum blond hair, wearing a white tank top and basketball shorts, hiding his face behind big black sunglasses.

Taekwoon stands speechless before Wonshik, staring at him and figuring that Wonshik must be doing the same, only Taekwoon can’t see his droopy eyes from the sunglasses. Mrs Kim’s voice as she’s inviting the two strangers for cookies and juice gets muffled by the thoughts in Taekwoon’s mind.

“Hey,” Wonshik breathes so quietly Taekwoon wouldn’t even catch it if his attention weren’t fully directed at him.

“Hi,” he replies equally softly.

Taekwoon’s gaze shifts to Wonshik’s bedroom’s door and Wonshik gives a slight nod, stepping in, Taekwoon following him.

Wonshik sits down on the edge of his bed, offering Taekwoon a place too, but Taekwoon doesn’t feel like sitting down next to him, not yet.

The bedroom has changed a lot over the last year: the single bed got replaced by a double one, the pictures of women posing in revealing clothes disappeared to give room to posters of artists Taekwoon doesn’t know, and all the furniture is black now.

“So?” Wonshik asks, putting his sunglasses on the nightstand.

“So what?”

Wonshik snorts and cocks an eyebrow at Taekwoon.

“You come back after an entire fucking year of me not hearing a goddamn word from you and the first coherent sentence you utter is the question ‘so what’?”

Taekwoon almost replies with a ‘you asked me first and ‘hi’ is a sentence too’, but he refrains. He’s here to settle things, to talk and maybe hang out with his friend, and a fight certainly won’t lead to any of these.

“Why didn’t you reply to my messages?” Wonshik asks, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why did you change your phone number and not tell me? Why did your mother tell me you’d be back soon but never more?”

Taekwoon averts his eyes. He examines a dirty sock on the floor, almost instinctively picking it up to put it in the laundry like he did so many times in the past, but he stops himself. He knows he can’t behave like the last year has never happened.

“Okay, look at this,” Wonshik says with a small quiver in his voice, and Taekwoon turns back to see him take his phone out of his pocket and tap on it a few times before lifting it up for Taekwoon to see. Taekwoon leans in, seeing a playlist, and on the top of it, the title of his all-time favourite song. He looks up at Wonshik uncomprehendingly. “Look at the title of the playlist.”

Taekwoon does so, and his heart sinks into his stomach when he reads ‘Most played’. He swallows thickly, straightening his back and looking down at the floor.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” he mumbles.

“I don’t,” Wonshik replies with a small chuckle that’s far from happy. “You know it’s not my style, but after you were gone, after I tried to contact you so many times and failed, thinking you’d never be back, I kept listening to it, because at least you left  _this_  here. Now, did you ever think of me?”

Taekwoon looks up at Wonshik’s face again, seeing hatred, sorrow and anger on it, and he feels like crying. He has never wanted to see that in Wonshik’s ever so shiny, smiley eyes, especially not when he’s looking at Taekwoon.

Taekwoon sits down on the edge of the bed, hands shaking and his stomach doing somersaults, his insides twisting. His heart beats faster than ever, with deep, bitter, erratic thumps, and he’s so sad he thinks this might be how grief feels like, but he presses closer to Wonshik and captures his lips with his own in an unspoken  _I love you_. The kiss is firm and forced, it’s nowhere near the soft and bubbly feeling Taekwoon has always imagined; nothing happy, nothing uplifting, nothing requited.

He pulls back, but doesn’t dare look at Wonshik’s face, only rests his forehead in the curve of Wonshik’s neck, and tries to bring a rhythm into his breathing, to even it out in order to be able to hold the tears back, just a little bit more.

Wonshik’s hand comes up to his back, rubbing it soothingly, pulling Taekwoon closer with his other arm, exactly like Taekwoon did to him so many times: when Wonshik broke up with his first girlfriend, when his parents almost divorced, when his grandmother died. Taekwoon feels bad about needing the comfort and care he has always given Wonshik, because Wonshik needs it more, he  _must_  need it more–that’s all Taekwoon has been able to give him for all these years.

“Is this why you left?” Wonshik asks in a hoarse voice, the way his voice gets when he’s close to tears. “You wanted to get rid of it, right?”

Taekwoon nods, his hair probably tickling Wonshik’s neck, because Wonshik flinches, but when Taekwoon wants to draw back, Wonshik holds him tighter.

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik whispers, and by now Taekwoon’s entire body is trembling as he clutches Wonshik’s top, creasing it as much as he can to let out the pent up sadness. “I love you more than anybody. You’re not just my best friend, not just someone I’ve always thought of as a brother… you’re–you’re a part of me, a much bigger part than I myself. I love you, okay?”

Taekwoon is grateful Wonshik doesn’t say he loves him ‘but not like that’. It’s already fucked up enough as it is, because even if Wonshik means all of this, there will be a time in the future when Taekwoon’s favourite song won’t be the most played audio file in Wonshik’s phone–one day, when Wonshik will have married the luckiest woman on earth and given her the most adorable children; Taekwoon will be lying in his own, cold bed then, singing the lullaby he first sang to Wonshik, feeling sorry for himself. He hates these thoughts, hates that he can only think of his own mind’s peace when he was the one who deceived his best friend and forced his feelings onto him.

So Taekwoon tucks his love for Wonshik away, sprinkling memories on it, hiding it under brotherly feelings. He thinks his heart will be safe like that–no one can disturb and tear it into pieces, and it can beat in his chest peacefully; broken, but protected by all the memories.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to talk to me about any of my stories or just vixx in general on [tumblr](http://hongbab.tumblr.com/), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hongbab) or [aff](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1061753) ♡ please support me on [ko-fi.com](https://ko-fi.com/hongbab) if you can ♡


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